Taken
by ImagineThis22
Summary: Joan is kidnapped and Sherlock has to race against time to save her. Will he make it in time or...will she be lost forever? Please Review/Favorite/Follow ENJOY!
1. Chapter 1

Joan opened her eyes and squinted at the bright light above her. She blinked twice and scanned the room, trying to remember where she was. The room felt stuffy and smelt musty, with the lingering stench of urine. Joan shivered, the room was freezing…_she_ was freezing. She rubbed her arms to warm herself. To her surprise, she felt that her arms were bare. Joan looked down at her body and a small gasp escaped her lips. She was completely nude.

Joan stood up quickly and desperately searched for her clothes. When she couldn't find them, she searched for something to cover herself with. In one of the corners of the room a blanket was tossed carelessly on the ground. Joan covered her breasts with her arm and ran for the safety of the blanket. She reached for it and wrapped it around her naked body. Joan surveyed the empty room and made note of her surroundings.

Cement walls, cement floors, cement ceiling…cement was _everywhere_. It made Joan feel like she was trapped. She was about to call out for help, but she decided against it. Whoever had trapped her here clearly wanted her to squirm. They wanted her to be scared…almost like a cat playing with a mouse before the predator took out its prey.

Joan noticed a steel door on the opposite wall and cautiously made her way over. She felt the door for any sort of knob, but there was none. She tightened the blanket around her and quieted her breathing. The room was completely silent, except for the muffled whispers of unidentified men behind the steel door. Joan pressed her ear against the cold steel of the door and listened hard. She could hardly make out what they were saying, but managed to make out small parts of their sentences.

"Is…ready?" A deep, raspy voice asked what Joan deduced to be a group of men.

"We picked her up…in there now." Another man replied in a deeper tone.

"Good…good price…make a lot of money." The raspy voiced man added.

Joan closed her eyes and concentrated. She had to hear what they were talking about; whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

"What about…NYPD?…works…man named Sherlock Holmes." A new voice spoke to the group. Joan could tell that this man was younger than the rest because it wasn't as deep of a tone.

"No problem…get rid of him." The raspy voiced man demanded.

Joan gasped and pushed herself away from the door. Get rid of Sherlock? She stumbled backwards and found herself gripping the blanket so tight that her knuckles had gone white. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she began to sweat. Whatever these men were planning to do with her and Sherlock, it wasn't good.

She had to get away…and fast.

…

Sherlock walked into the Brownstone with Detective Bell and Captain Gregson trailing behind. Sherlock escorted them to the parlor and offered them beverages.

"I have tea, coffee, soda…" Sherlock started to name all the beverages in his Brownstone kitchen.

"Coffee, please." Captain Gregson interrupted him. He knew that if he hadn't interrupted Sherlock, the consultant of the NYPD would name every drink possible. Who knows how long _that_ would take…The young consulting detective had a reputation of not being able to shut his mouth after he started speaking. Sherlock probably would've switched from the different beverages in his possession to what he calls 'interesting facts' about them.

"Second that." Detective Bell added. He shot a look at Gregson that read 'thanks for making him shut up'.

Sherlock nodded and went to fetch their drinks.

"So, where is Ms. Watson?" Captain Gregson asked from the parlor.

Sherlock measured out three spoonfuls of coffee mix and piled them into the coffee filter. He placed the coffee filter into the coffee machine and hit the button. As the coffee brewed, he walked into the parlor so they wouldn't have to yell back and forth.

"She is currently visiting her mother in on Staten Island. Her brother Oren owns a flat there and the family is gathered for a reunion."  
Sherlock leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

Detective Bell raised his eyebrows. "She left you here…_alone_?"

"Yes. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I do not need a babysitter." Sherlock left the parlor to check on the coffee as he talked. He took the coffee pot and poured the coffee into two mugs. He grabbed a couple of sugar packets and creamers before he made his way back to the parlor where his colleagues were seated, waiting for their coffee. He handed them the mugs and placed the sugar packets and creamers on the table between them. The NYPD officers helped themselves to the creamers and sugar as Sherlock took a seat on the couch opposite of Captain Gregson.

"When is she returning?" Captain Gregson asked, stirring his coffee.

"Sometime tonight or early tomorrow morning…I wasn't really listening when she told me. I was too engrossed with writing my Queen Bee monograph." Sherlock answered, reaching for his cell phone. He scrolled through all the texts she had sent to him every hour since she had left for Staten Island. His curiosity peaked when he noticed something peculiar. "That's strange…"

"What is it?" Captain Gregson leaned forward in sudden interest. Detective Bell also leaned forward, intrigued.

"Watson has texted me every hour since she left…but there have been no texts from her since noon…" Sherlock furrowed his brow. Joan was relentless when it came to checking in with him. Even after she had agreed to be his partner, she had been very adamant at making sure to always check in every hour or two. It seemed as though she _still_ didn't trust him to be alone.

"That's," Captain Gregson checked his watch, "four hours ago…"

Sherlock squinted at the screen and began making possibilities in his mind of what could've preoccupied her enough to forget her 'responsibility'. For some reason, he could only think of one. She had gone out to a restaurant for a family dinner and met a man. She always forgot about her job when she met a man. The thought of her shacking up with some other male bothered him.

"Sherlock?" Detective Bell tried to get the consultants attention.

Sherlock continued to stare at his phone and think about Joan with another man.

"Sherlock!" Detective Bell raised his voice a little and waved a hand in front of Sherlock's face to wake him from his deep thought.

"Huh?" Sherlock snapped out of it and glanced from Bell to Gregson.

"Are you alright?" Captain Gregson eyed him suspiciously. Something was clearly bothering the consultant.

"I'm alright. I was just thinking about what preoccupied Watson to stop texting me." Sherlock's facial expression remained stoic so they wouldn't be able to read his worry for his partner. If he showed any emotion about the situation bothering him, they would assume that he really cared for her. Well, I mean, he _did_ care for her, but they would assume that he was in _love_ with her. Which he wasn't…really…

"Maybe she grew tired of not getting a response from you…" Detective Bell shrugged. To him, this wasn't that big of a deal.

Sherlock shrugged. That _was_ a possibility…even if she had never stopped checking in before. This wasn't like her. Maybe something was wrong…

"Excuse me." Sherlock stepped out of the parlor and made his way upstairs. He entered Joan's room and rummaged through her drawers. He had seen her pocket a slip of paper with her brother's cell number on it. If he was correct, the slip of paper would still be there. He had done her laundry before, as weird as it sounds, and noticed that she had the habit of not emptying her pockets. Hopefully, Joan's forgetfulness would pay off and he'd be able to reach her brother so he could check on her. It was just a provision; he wanted to be assured that his associate was safe.

He pulled out her black skinny jeans and stuck his hand in the pocket.

"Bingo!" He pinched the paper between his fingers and unfolded it. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.

It rang twice before someone answered.

"Hello?" A male voice asked. Sherlock deduced that it was Oren himself speaking.

"Yes, hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes and I work with your sister Wa- Joan." He corrected himself.

"Oh, yes! Mr. Holmes, how are you?" Oren asked.

"I've been fine. You're sister has been terrific at keeping me on track to be clean and sober…"

"That's great. Joan has always been devoted to her job; there isn't one person she can't help. That must be why she couldn't make it to the reunion…"

"Did you just say Joan isn't there?" Sherlock froze. If she wasn't there…where was she?

"No, she didn't show. We concluded that she must've skipped out to deal with a case…Is there something wrong, Mr. Holmes?" Oren's voice faltered. Sherlock could tell he was getting worried.

"Um, well…Joan headed for your flat this morning. If you live on Staten Island…that's not that far of a drive. She should've been there by now…" Sherlock started pacing the room as he thought of all the horrible things that could've happened to her.

"She never showed…Are you telling me my sister is _missing_?" Oren began to get angry. If she would've just continued with medicine, she would've never met this man who constantly was surrounded with danger. She would've been safer as a doctor.

"I'm afraid so…" Sherlock hung up the phone before Oren could start arguing with him and demanding that Sherlock find her. He didn't have to be told to do what he was going to do anyways.

Sherlock ran down the stairs and entered the parlor.

"Sherlock, what were you-" Detective Bell started.

Sherlock held a hand up to stop him and began speaking when Bell stopped. "Joan is missing."

Detective Bell and Captain Gregson exchanged a surprised expression.

"Why do you say that?" Gregson asked.

"She never showed up at her brother's flat and she stopped texting me at noon…this would suggest that she went missing _around_ noon." Sherlock began to work his deductive skills.

Captain Gregson stood and so did Bell.

"Get your coats; we need to head to Brooklyn." Sherlock grabbed his coat from the closet as the two NYPD officers dressed in their coats that had been taken off when Sherlock had been busy making coffee.

"Why Brooklyn?" Detective Bell asked when Sherlock began to exit the Brownstone.

Sherlock spoke without turning around. "I know who has Watson."

_**THANKS FOR READING! I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY NEW SERIES AND FIND IT INTERESTING!  
PLEASE FAVORITE/FOLLOW AND REVIEW!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! :)**

"So, wait…how do you know who has Joan?" Detective Bell asked, staring straight ahead as he drove. Sherlock was in the backseat and Captain Gregson was shot-gun. The consultant had been a real 'back seat driver' since they started their trek to Brooklyn. 'Keep your eyes on the road', 'keep your speed up', 'turn this way…turn that way…wait, go back' were just some of the statements Sherlock had made. The drive should've only taken an hour and a half, but so far, they had been in the car for three hours…and the hours had _not_ been peaceful.

"Watson and I started working on a case a few days ago concerning one Phillip Olin." Sherlock responded from the backseat.

"_So_? Who is Phillip Olin?" Captain Gregson looked at Sherlock in the rearview mirror.

"A well-known gambler and all around scam artist. He evades police on a regular basis. Plenty of police forces have tried to nab him for his crimes, but he's too smart for them." Sherlock pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his notes about Phillip. He and Joan had begun looking into Phillip Olin when Rhys had contacted them about how he had been scammed out of his money in a game of cards. Rhys swore Phillip had cheated and knew Sherlock would love the challenge of taking Phillip down. The notes on his phone were just a few things Watson had said that Sherlock was too arrogant to admit were strong pieces of evidence. She was becoming increasingly good at deductive reasoning and thinking like a detective. She had the potential to be just like him…minus the temper-tantrums.

"Then what makes you think you can catch him?" Detective Bell asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because I'm _me_. Like I told Watson, I'm smarter than everyone I meet." Sherlock looked up at Bell like he had just been insulted.

Detective Bell rolled his eyes and the car ride drifted into silence once again.

Captain Gregson shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence and sighed. "Why do you think Mr. Olin has Joan?"

"We were getting really close to catching him. Watson was going around asking about him while I was home researching. I believe Mr. Olin thought Joan was getting too close to catching him and decided to shut her up. Olin doesn't have a violent past, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable of hurting Watson." Sherlock felt a strange emptiness in his heart. He had grown used to her always being around and now that she was gone, he felt lost. They had been together as colleagues for almost a year now and he felt weird when she wasn't with him. Not that he'd admit it, of course.

Detective Bell was about to make a wise-crack about Sherlock being in love with Joan, but knew that it would be crossing the line. Sherlock was clearly worried and making fun of him wouldn't help their 'friendship' that had begun developing over the cases they'd worked together. Instead he said:

"We'll find her Sherlock, don't worry."

"I'm not worried." Sherlock replied in fake confidence. He thought by saying it aloud, he'd feel reassured that she'd be alright, but you can't fully convince yourself of anything; it's hard for _anyone_ to convince themselves of anything…and for a man like Sherlock, it's even harder. All he could do for now is _hope_ that she'd be safe.

…

Joan looked around the room for any other escape, but to her distress, there was no other way out other than the steel door with the men who wanted to hurt her (and Sherlock) behind it. Joan considered banging on the door until they opened the door and attacking them when they entered, but she knew that wasn't smart. The _smart_ thing to do would be to go along with whatever they were planning to do with her. Complete cooperation would help her situation way more than fighting them. If she resisted, she could be killed…or worse, Sherlock could be…

The steel door clicked and Joan ran to the back of the room. She crouched down and hugged the blanket around herself, making sure to cover the private parts.

The door swung open with a high pitched whine and slammed against the concrete wall. Three men stepped into the room and stared down at her.

Joan ducked her head and closed her eyes. She heard heavy footsteps coming near and she pushed her back against the wall. She pushed up against the wall even more, trying to get away from the man coming over by her. Joan peeked up at the man and found him smiling maliciously.

"Hello, sweetheart." He knelt down and pushed her jet-black hair behind her right ear.

Joan tried moving away from his touch, but was caught off guard when he took hold of her upper-arm and yanked her to her feet. Joan caught the blanket and gripped the two ends in an attempt to keep the blanket around her.

"Bring her to the truck." The other, taller man demanded.

The man who had Joan nodded and pushed her towards the door.

Joan let him push her forward with one thing on her mind: Go along with whatever they do. It will help out in the long-run.

He pushed her through the door and into the darkened warehouse.

Joan looked around at the warehouse and wrinkled her nose. The place was really dusty and she had to fight back a sneeze. Joan was pushed towards a red, wood door with the two other men trailing behind them. Joan knew that they were following close behind just in case she got cocky and tried to escape. Joan's captor stopped in front of the door and nodded towards the other men. The other men came up behind Joan and slipped a bag over her head. They must've known that Joan would try and look at road signs or landmarks so she knew where she was. They were smarter than Joan thought.

"Where are you taking me?" Joan managed to ask from inside the bag.

The man pushed her through the door roughly. "Shut up."

Joan stumbled and the blanket dropped from her hands. She cried out and tried to catch it, but the man pushed her forward.

"Move." He demanded.

Joan felt the sting of tears in her eyes and reluctantly moved forward. The man still had her arm in his grasp when they approached a parked truck. Joan could hear the back doors opening and before she knew it, she was being pushed into the back of the truck. Joan heard the doors slam behind her and when she was sure she was alone, Joan let the tears come. She felt so vulnerable…so lost…so hopeless.

How would Sherlock find her now?

**Thank you for reading! I'm sorry that this chapter was so short...I'll make the next one longer! I hope you are enjoying this so far! I'll probably be able to put up one more chapter before I leave for St. Louis, MO in 5 days...so stay tuned :)  
PLEASE FAVORITE, FOLLOW, AND REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

Joan tried to search for something to cover herself up with, but she couldn't feel anything except for the shabby carpet in the back of the truck. She had removed the bag from her head the minute they shut the door and she was alone, but it was still really dark. There weren't any windows or gaps in the truck's framework and even with Joan's eyes adjusting to the dark, she still couldn't see anything. Joan sat, crouched in the corner and took a deep breath. She shut her eyes and concentrated on the truck's movements. So far, they had turned left, right, driven straight for awhile, and took another left. Joan estimated that they had been driving for about an hour because the usual noise of New York traffic had died down. The noise usually dies down about an hour out of the heart of New York City, so Joan knew that she was _at least_ an hour away from wherever the warehouse was. She didn't know how far away Sherlock's home was from the warehouse because she still did not remember how she had ended up in the warehouse in the first place…or where the warehouse even was.

Joan felt the truck make a hard stop and she pitched forward. Joan braced her fall with her palms and gritted her teeth to try to numb the pain that shot up her arms. She heard the truck's passenger and driver's side door slam shut and she reached for the bag that had been over her head. She put it back on and waited for them to open the back door. She heard the men's footsteps and she held her breath. One of the men pulled the back doors open and Joan waited for them to yank her out. To her surprise, one of them spoke without grabbing her.

"Come on, hop on out." A different male's voice spoke calmly.

Joan stayed where she was, unsure of whether he was testing her or if he meant it.

"Come on, honey…and take that silly bag of your head." The man reached for the bag on Joan's head and pulled it off.

Joan had her eyes closed tight and she was waiting for him to pull her out of the car.

"Ms. Joan…" The man smiled at her.

Joan opened her eyes and stared at the man. "You know my name?"

"Of course I do. Now, come on out. I won't hurt you." He extended a hand towards her with a warm smile on his face.

Joan looked at his hand and then back into his eyes. The man had brown hair that was slicked back with more hair gel then he needed and his eyes were a stunning blue. His smile looked so inviting…so warm.

Joan slowly placed her hand in his and he helped her out of the back of the truck. She froze as the men who had brought her to this place advanced towards her.

The man held a hand up to stop the advancing men and grasped Joan's small hand in his other hand. He looked toward Joan when the men stopped coming near her. "It's okay dear, they won't hurt you…I promise." He smiled warmly again and Joan felt a little safer…even if she was completely nude and vulnerable.

He led her through the darkness to the large building that the truck parked in front of. He led her through the door and they disappeared behind its walls.

…

"Where is she?" Sherlock demanded an answer from the well-known scam artist standing behind the bar. Detective Bell and Captain Gregson stood behind Sherlock, letting him direct the conversation. They knew that Sherlock would be able to get an answer from this man even if he didn't say anything about Joan. Sherlock was always able to read people; it was his best quality.

"Where is _who_?" Phillip Olin glared at the consulting detective sitting at the bar and at the two NYPD officers.

"Don't act dumb. You can't fool me. I want to know where Joan is and I want to know _now_." Sherlock hated when people lied to him. It was insult to his skills. It was almost like they didn't believe that he could tell when people lied to him. By far, it was the easiest thing to observe about people. Their faces gave them away, no matter how hard they tried to hide it.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who is Joan?" Phillip began cleaning the bar glasses while the two cops and one consultant watched him.

"You know quite well who she is Mr. Olin. I would appreciate an answer to my question before I have to beat it out of you." Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth.

"Holmes…" Captain Gregson warned him.

Sherlock bit his cheek to stop himself from saying any more threats to Phillip. He took a breath to calm himself a little and spoke with a less threatening tone. "Where is Joan Watson? I know that you have her. All signs point to you, Mr. Olin."

"Do they?" Phillip smirked as he polished the last glass and set it down to dry.

Sherlock continued. "I know you wanted to shut her up and keep her from uncovering your shenanigans."

"Shenanigans?" Phillip asked in fake innocence.

"You're scamming people out of their money and cheating them at cards. Sure, cops have never been able to convict you of these crimes, but you knew that Joan was getting close to actually catch you and turn you in. To shut her up, you kidnapped her and stashed her somewhere. I'd like to know where, please." Sherlock clenched his fists to stop himself from attacking the man across the counter.

Phillip frowned. "That's a great plan…too bad I didn't do it. If your 'Joan' is really missing, I had nothing to do with it."

"Why should I believe anything you say?" Sherlock glared at Phillip.

"Because it's the truth…I had nothing to do with it…" A thought came to Phillip's mind and he bit the inside of his mouth, hoping that Sherlock hadn't seen anything.

Of course, Sherlock had noticed and he asked about it. "What is it?"

Phillip glanced around the remaining people in the bar and spoke in a hushed tone. "I'm telling the truth about having nothing to do with it…but…I have an idea of who might have her…"

Sherlock arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"But…you need to promise me something first." Phillip finished.

"What is it?" Detective Bell spoke up, interested.

"I need you to promise me that you will not tell _anyone_ that I told you…" Phillip actually seemed desperate. He knew who had Joan and he was afraid. You don't mess with them…if you get on their bad side, its death.

"Tell us." Captain Gregson stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Okay…I've been gamblin' with these new guys. They're loaded and often mention their 'line of work'…" Phillip paused, "It took me a while to pry the 'plan' from them, but they finally entrusted me enough to tell me…"

"Explain." Sherlock was recording this whole conversation in his mind in a mental note.

"Well, they've been talkin' quite a lot about your father…Mr. Holmes. They've been thinking of holding _you_ for ransom…but they didn't know until recently that your father wouldn't give a rat's ass."

Sherlock frowned and finished Phillip's statement. "So they decided to strike at me by kidnapping Joan because they know that I'll pay the ransom…"

Phillip nodded. "Exactly."

"I haven't heard anything about a ransom though…" Sherlock pulled out his phone and checked to make sure he hadn't missed any calls.

"Well…it might be because they can get more money from _others_ using your friend…" Phillip looked down at the bar.

"What do you mean?" Captain Gregson furrowed his brow.

Phillip glanced between the three men sitting before him. "Have you gentlemen ever heard of sex-slave trading?"

…

"Right this way, dear." The man led Joan to a room that looked like a barn full of horse stalls. It reeked of sweat, urine, and blood mixed together into one pungent scent.

Joan had to breathe through her mouth in order to prevent herself from throwing up. "What is this place?"

"A safe place." The man replied, gently pulling her towards a stall. He let her hand go and motioned for her to go inside.

Joan eyed the stall and frowned. The stall was full of hay and had chains with restraints on the wall.

He noticed that she was going to flee so he placed an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. You aren't going to be chained up."

Joan eyed him and tried to tell if his friendly demeanor was just for show or if it was genuine. She couldn't tell…the dehydration was setting in. She yawned from exhaustion and managed to remember the promise she had made to herself. _Go along with whatever they make you do…_

"Okay…" Joan walked into the stall and grew aware of her nakedness. She covered her breasts with her arm and looked in the stall for a blanket.

The man whistled and Joan turned to look at him. He tossed a blanket at her and she scrambled for it. "Usually, we don't give our girls any sort of blankets or clothing because one should not feel self-conscious about their body. The human body is a beautiful thing, Ms. Joan…"

"If your 'girls' don't get blankets…why do I get one?" Joan wrapped the blanket around herself and breathed a sigh of relief. She was warm and her body was covered.

"Because my dear Joan, you are special." The man winked and closed the stall door.

Joan heard the distinct click of a lock and once again, felt trapped.

"I'll see you soon, Joanie. But for now, get comfortable." He smiled and walked away from the stall door.

Joan looked around her stall for any sort of food or water and was relieved to find a package of saltine crackers and two, slightly cold water bottles. She twisted the cap off the water bottle and gulped it all down. She tossed the empty bottle in the corner and opened the package of saltine crackers. She grabbed three of the twelve crackers in the package and closed the package so the crackers wouldn't go stale. She nibbled on one of the three crackers and looked around with more awareness. The water had rehydrated her and she finally felt that her brain was working again. She knew that she never should've trusted that strange man who had pretended to be so friendly, but that was the past. She was stuck in this stall, like an animal, and she needed to find a way out. But how?

Joan stopped nibbling on her second cracker when she heard a strange noise. She listened for it again and when she heard it again, she stood up to investigate. She walked over to the stall wall that divided her stall from the one next to it and looked through the steel bars.

On the ground was a young woman, maybe in her twenties, crying into the hay.

Joan felt her caring side kick in and decided to address the sobbing woman. "Are you okay?"

The young woman looked around for the source of the voice and when she saw Joan, she wiped her tears. "Who are you?"

"My name is Joan Watson…are you alright?"

The young woman wiped some more tears away and nodded. "I'm just so hungry. The handlers don't feed us."

"Handlers?" Joan felt the panic rising. Only certain people were called handlers.

"Yeah. They're supposed to be caring for us, but they don't. I haven't gotten my crackers in three days. We're supposed to get one package of crackers a day and two water bottles…but most of the time, they forget or just don't feel like giving anything to us." Another tear ran down the young girls face.

Joan felt sadness for this girl. She was so young and so beautiful…she didn't deserve to be here.

The young girl was blonde with brown eyes, like Joan's. She had some freckles on her cheeks, but they were hard to see with all the dirt caked on the young girl's white skin. Joan noticed that the girl's ribs were showing more than they should've been, meaning she hadn't been fed well. The only reason she saw her ribs was because the young girl was _also_ nude.

Joan walked away from the steel bars and grabbed four of her crackers from the package and poured half of her water bottle into the empty bottle. Joan walked back to the steel bars and found that the girl and gone back to crying.

"Hey, I have something for you." Joan spoke soothingly.

The young girl's head raised and her face lit up when she saw that Joan had food and water.

"Take it." Joan pushed her hands through the bars and the girl jumped up to receive the gifts.

The girl bit into a cracker and took a sip of water. When she was done with two crackers, she smiled at Joan. "Thank you so much, Joan."

"You're welcome..." She trailed off, hoping the girl would tell her her name.

"The handlers named me Anna Rose, but my real name is Mariah Tellor." Mariah took another gulp of water.

"They _named_ you?" Joan's fears were confirmed. This was definitely the sex-slave trade.

"Yeah…They've named all their girls. Is Joan your name?"

"Joan is my real name…They haven't 'named' me yet."

Mariah nodded. "They will, though…they've named everyone…"

"How long have you been in this stall?" Joan looked back at her own stall and frowned at the thought of having to spend the night in it…or worse, weeks in it.

"A month or so…"

"A month?" Joan asked, surprised, her attention snapping back to Mariah.

"Yeah…I was one of the first girls here. They're collecting us for some 'big event'." Mariah finished off her last cracker and drank the last bit of water.

"Event? What event?" Joan wanted to get all the information she could about the situation. It would help her when Sherlock found her. _If_ he found her…

Mariah shrugged. "Don't know. They don't tell us anything…I just eavesdrop sometimes when I can."

A knock on the stall door made Joan jump. She looked towards the noise and froze.

The 'friendly' man who had brought her to the stall was standing with a smile that looked too forced. "Hello, Dixie Rain."

_**THANKS FOR READING!**_  
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	4. Chapter 4

**I'M BACK! YAY! I MISSED YOU ALL! ST. LOUIS WAS A LOT OF FUN AND I GOT A NEW IDEA FOR ANOTHER JOANLOCK FIC THERE! I PROMISE I'LL START IT AFTER THIS STORY! :D ENJOYYYYY!**

"Dixie Rain…?" Joan blinked in confusion.

"Yes Miss Dixie." The man grinned at her. He looked past Joan to look at the blonde woman and scowled, "I see you've met Anna Rose…"

"Mariah Tellor, actually." Joan corrected him harshly.

"Not while she's here. While she's here, her name is Anna Rose and your name is Dixie Rain." He paused and glared at her. "And if you think otherwise, I promise you that your stay will be Hell…I'll make your _life_ Hell."

The man shot Mariah one last glare before moving to open the stall door. He yanked the door open and grasped her forearm tightly.

Joan gasped at the sudden pain caused by his hand squeezing her arm. "That hurts…" She whined.

The man tightened his grasp on her arm while she yelped in pain. "Get over it." He growled.

Joan began to lose feeling in her hand and freaked. She struggled to get free from the pain and started to kick him in the shins.

"Stop that! Stop it, dammit!" He raised his fist and swung his arm, his clenched fist connecting with Joan's cheek.

Joan felt the pain explode on the side of her face and felt herself hit the cold, hard ground. Stars danced across her vision and she felt the throbbing begin within her cranium.

"Jack!" A deep, gruff voice yelled across the barn stalls.

Joan heard heavy steps approaching her and she cowered away, fearing that she was about to be struck again. The heavy steps paused about five feet away and Joan realized she wasn't in any danger…for now…

"Jack, what in the _Hell_ are you doing?!" The gruff voice demanded from the man called Jack.

"This **_bitch_** was kicking me!" Jack pointed at Joan.

"You don't punch the merchandise! We'll be lucky to get twenty grand now! You don't mess with them…they've gotta stay pretty or nobody will pay." The gruff voiced man glared daggers at Jack. "Whatever money we lose on her because of this will be coming out of your pay."

Jack glowered. "They'll pay."

"You better hope so." The man looked down at Joan and frowned. "Get her cleaned up." The man glared at Jack for a few more moments before returning to his post on the opposite side of the barn.

Jack stared after the other, stronger man before he returned his attention to Joan. "Get up." He demanded.

Joan sat, cowering near the stall door, struggling to make a decision between running and _praying_ to get away or going along with whatever he had planned. After a moment and impatient grunt from Jack, she reluctantly stood and let him push her to where he was taking her.

"Where are you taking me now?" She managed to muster up enough courage to ask about his plans.

"You heard him…You need to be cleaned up." Jack grinned threateningly.

Joan swallowed. "What do you mean?" She sure hoped he didn't mean what she thought he meant.

"You need a bath…" He leaned in so he was whispering in her ear, "and I'm going to give you one."

…

"So you're telling me Joan has been _sold_ to the sex slave trade?" Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth. He was pacing the length of the bar as Detective Bell and Captain Gregson watched him from their bar stools.

"Not sold…_kidnapped_. I'm guessing that they raided her car or followed her to her parent's house before they struck. They probably kidnapped her, drove her somewhere, and now are trying to sell her to perverts and screw-ups." Phillip folded his arms and watched the nervous consulting detective continue to pace.

Sherlock started to ramble, "Did they say where they were going with her? Did they say when they were going to sell her? Did they say-"

"Holmes." Captain Gregson stood and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, interrupting Sherlock's wave of unanswered questions.

Sherlock looked into the Captain's worried expression and realized he wasn't helping the situation. By pacing and asking questions without gaining answers, he was making everyone nervous about what could be happening to Joan at the moment. He took a deep breath and turned towards Phillip. "Did they say anything else? Anything that could possibly help us figure out where they took Joan?"

Phillip thought about it for a few minutes before answering. "I know one of them owns an old warehouse about an hour north of the city…"

"Seems like an ideal place to stash someone…" Detective Bell pointed out.

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed. Phillip, we're going to need you to show us the warehouse."

"Of course. Just let me lock up first." Phillip made his way to the back of the bar and grabbed the keys from the hook on the wall. He retrieved his coat and motioned them to the door. They all stepped out of the bar and Phillip locked the door behind them.

"Lead the way Mr. Olin." Captain Gregson spoke.

Phillip hailed a cab and they were off.

…

Joan sat, huddled against the wood door of her stall. She was freezing and soaked- with tears and water. Her head was still pounding from the punch she had received from Jack and she was aching all over. Jack had taken her to the wash room and drew her an ice-cold bath. Joan was reluctant to go into the water and had to be restrained against her will. Two men had joined Jack in the wash room to help Jack prevent Joan from getting away. They picked her up and lowered her into the cold water. She thrashed her arms and legs wildly, but to no avail. She was restrained while Jack scrubbed her all over in the tub while Joan screamed until her throat was raw. He then proceeded to wash her bruised face, not careful to not cause her more pain. He wasn't gentle with the washing and Joan felt like her skin was scrubbed raw. Her muscles ached from resisting against the strong men even though she knew she should've just gone along with it…no matter how traumatic it had been.

"Joan?" A small voice whispered, breaking the heavy silence of the barn.

Joan stood up slowly and walked over to the steel bars separating the two stalls. "Mariah? What are you doing up?"

"I was waiting for you…Are you alright?" Mariah was watching Joan closely. She noticed the unshed tears glazing her eyes and remembered her first bath. It had been awful…She could commiserate with Joan on the subject. They had been through the same terrible nightmare.

Joan wiped the tears on her cheeks and winced when she accidentally touched her fresh bruises. "Yeah…Please tell me they never did that to you." Joan watched Mariah's eyes get dark.

"They did…I think they've done it to everyone…" Mariah trailed off as she relived the terrible memory.

"Something else happened too…I can tell." Joan begged with her eyes for Mariah to trust her enough so she could get the full story.

"Jack…He…um…raped me…" Mariah's throat tightened and she had to look away. She had never told anyone else about what had happened that day in the wash rooms…it had been unbearable even to think about it.

Joan reached out for her hand and squeezed. "Did you fight him?"

Mariah nodded, suddenly not being able to speak. A tear rolled down her face and dropped into the hay beneath her bare feet.

"It's okay…We'll get out of this…I promise." Joan felt Mariah return the squeeze and saw a small hopeful smile on her lips.

Joan had never been so confident in her life…They _were_ going to get out of this. No matter what.

…

"This is the place." Phillip exited the cab after paying and joined the three detectives in front of the warehouse.

"You're sure?" Detective Bell eyed the premises suspiciously. "This place looks ominous enough…"

"Yes I'm sure. Come on." Phillip started to head towards the entrance before the Captain stopped him.

"Wait, we don't know if they're waiting for us or not." Captain Gregson pulled out his gun and began slinking towards the entrance.

Phillip rolled his eyes, but followed closely.

Detective Bell broke open the door with his foot and pulled out his service weapon also.

They began to do a sweep around the warehouse before finally concluding that it was empty.

"I thought you said she'd be here." Sherlock glared at Phillip.

"I didn't say she'd be here…I said she _might_ be." Phillip corrected him.

Sherlock grabbed Phillip's shoulders and threw him against the wall. "Where is she?!"

"I don't know man! I don't know! Let me go!" Phillip closed his eyes, fearing a punch in the face.

Captain Gregson began pulling Sherlock away from Phillip.

Sherlock slammed him against the wall once more before letting his shoulders go. Phillip fell to the floor. "Dust yourself off and then you can tell us where Joan is."

Phillip stood and backed away from Sherlock. "I don't know where she is…I promise. But…if it's any conciliation, I can _try_ and help you."

Sherlock ground his teeth and began to survey the scene. He walked into a room with concrete walls and a concrete floor. He sniffed the air and huffed. The air smelled sweet…like Joan's honeysuckle perfume…He walked back into the main warehouse and paused when some clothes caught his eye. He walked over to the table and picked them up. The pile of clothes consisted of a black blouse, dark blue skinny jeans, and undergarments.

The same clothes Joan had been wearing that morning.

**THANKS FOR READING!  
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	5. Chapter 5

**_THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! JUST ONE LITTLE THING BEFORE YOU START READING…  
I'D LIKE TO TAKE THIS MOMENT TO EXPLAIN WHY I DID THIS STORY LINE…I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE COMMENTED SAYING THE STORY IS DISTURBING AND SCARY. I'M SORRY IF IT OFFENDS ANYONE OR DISTURBS ANYONE…I'M JUST TRYING TO SHED SOME LIGHT ON HOW THE SEX-SLAVE TRADE WORKS AND HOW GRUESOME IT CAN BE. I MADE SURE TO RESEARCH THE SUBJECT BEFORE I STARTED WRITING SO THAT IT'S NOT MY INTERPRETATION OF WHAT HAPPENS, BUT REAL LIFE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE. I'M HOPING TO SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT HOW TERRIBLE THE SEX-SLAVE TRADE IS AND HOPE WE CAN BAND TOGETHER ONE DAY TO STOP IT. THANK YOU._**

Sherlock picked up Joan's black blouse from the pile of clothes from the table and felt his heart sink. They were _definitely_ Joan's…no doubt about it. They smelt of honeysuckle perfume and had a few strands of long jet-black hair. He ran his thumb over the soft fabric as Captain Gregson and Detective Bell watched him, waiting to see what Sherlock's attitude would be. He could easily turn and become a revenge-seeking Sherlock or could completely break down and become an emotionally broken Sherlock.

Sherlock dropped the blouse and turned to face them, a vacant look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when his phone began ringing. The melodic joyful tone filled the empty warehouse, the sound bouncing against the empty spaces and echoing back to them. The ringtone was so joyful and uplifting…sort of ironic if you consider the day they'd been having.

Sherlock hit the answer key and put the phone to his ear. "Hel-"

"Stop talking and just listen." A voice cut him off.

Sherlock shut his mouth and waited for the voice to continue.

"By now you must've figured out that your friend Joan isn't anywhere in the warehouse…and before you ask me how I know you're in the warehouse, let me explain. We're watching you, Mr. Holmes. We have been watching you for some time now. We know you want Joan back, but the sad truth of the matter is that you're not getting her back." The voice paused to let that sink in. "If you really want her back...you're going to have to find her yourself, which will be nearly impossible. After tomorrow, your friend will be gone. Forever, I might add…"

Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore, "Where is she?" He demanded.

The voice laughed. "You're a detective…**_you_**_…__**tell**__…__**me**_."

Sherlock could sense the conversation ending and the man on the other line about to hang up, so he spoke up quickly. "Wait!"

"What?" The voice sounded annoyed.

"I'll give you whatever you want. Please. I'll give you any amount of money you'd like, a blank check, and all my dad's credit cards! Or…or…" Sherlock thought about what else he could give and when he thought of something else, he knew the man would never pass it up. "Or…I'll give you myself. If you give Joan to the NYPD, you can have me. I know that's what you want…A trade. Me for Joan."

The voice was quiet, contemplating his options. After a few moments, he made his decision. "Be at 1289 S. Hollow St. Manhattan, NY in an hour. We will make the exchange there. We will give you Joan for yourself _plus_ twenty-five grand."

Sherlock heard the call end and he pocketed his phone.

"So?" Gregson wanted Sherlock to explain what had happened on the phone and what the plan was.

"We need to get to 1289 S. Hollow St. Manhattan, NY within the hour." Sherlock began to stride towards the exit.

"The run-down Radisson hotel?" Phillip spoke, making Sherlock turn around.

Sherlock had almost forgotten that Phillip was even there. "You've been there?"

"Yeah, when it was up and running anyways…" Phillip watched as Sherlock started to walk again.

The three men followed after Sherlock, not knowing why they were headed _where_ they were headed.

…

"Joan? Joan!"

Joan raised her head and squinted her eyes in exhaustion. Had she really heard a voice calling her name?

"JOAN!"

Joan shot up from where she was sleeping and ran to the steel bars. "Mariah!"

Mariah was being restrained by two men and being pushed out of her stall. "Joan, help me!"

"Let her go! Let her go!" Joan tried to shake the steel bars free. When they didn't budge, she began pounding her fists on the bars, ignoring the excruciating pain shooting through her fingers.

"Joan!" Mariah sobbed and tried to break free from their grasp.

Joan felt herself crying -not from pain, but from desperation. She watched as they pushed her out of Joan's sight and Joan leaned her head against the bars. "Mariah…"

Soon, the barn was filled with screaming and crying from women being taken away to unknown places.

Joan felt herself shaking and praying for Mariah. "Don't hurt her…don't hurt her…" She sobbed.

"Dixie."

Joan turned, remembering that she was supposed to be responding to that name.

The stall door opened and the man entered. He grabbed her arm and Joan went along willingly.

He pushed her through the barn and into the dark of night. The man pushed her to a huge semi-truck that was parked in the back of the building and handed her off to two other, stronger men. The stronger men lifted her into the back of the semi and shut the doors.

Joan sat beside the doors and pushed herself into the corner. Her face still hurt from where she was punched and her fingers felt like they were either broken or shattered. She heard whimpers and soft quiet breathing in the dark as she felt the throbbing in her hands begin. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the dark and to her surprise, she was amidst about fifty young women. They were packed like sardines and Joan was lucky to have some leg room. She scanned the faces and felt panic well up inside her.

Mariah wasn't there.

…

Sherlock paced the lobby of the hotel as Gregson and Bell looked on. Sherlock had made quick work with the lock on the entrance to the hotel after he and the three other men had stopped to withdraw twenty-five grand from his savings. Sherlock now was a bundle of nerves and no meditation or calming words from the Captain could soothe his worry.

"Sherlock, look." Detective Bell pointed to a semi pulling up in the hotel's parking lot.

Sherlock clenched his fists as he watched a man hop out and go to the back of the semi. He pulled Joan out from the back and pushed her towards the hotel lobby. Sherlock looked Joan up and down; from her feet to the bag on her head. She was dressed in a nightgown and Sherlock felt hopeful. Joan would be safe.

The man entered the lobby and stopped a few feet from the four men. "Ready to go Holmes?"

"Ready." Sherlock grabbed the duffle-bag with the twenty-five grand in it and started towards the man with Joan.

"Sherlock, wait…" Detective Bell spoke up from suspicion.

Sherlock turned. "What?"

"That's not Joan…" Captain Gregson answered the question as he was now thinking the same thing as Bell was.

Sherlock turned back towards the man with 'Joan' and eyed the woman. He looked down at her feet and gritted his teeth. The woman was white, not asian. He looked up at the man and glared at him with extreme intensity.

The man pushed the woman towards Sherlock and ran towards the semi.

Captain Gregson ran after him as Sherlock caught the woman in his arms. He helped her up and took the bag off her head.

The woman was crying and had a gag-rag in her mouth.

Sherlock untied the gag-rag and threw it aside. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Shhh. It's alright." He cooed. He brought her to his chest and rubbed her back. "You're safe…you're okay."

Captain Gregson came back with the man in handcuffs and eyed the woman.

"What's your name?" Detective Bell asked the woman in Sherlock's arms.

She looked at Detective Bell, thought about whether or not to trust him, and wiped her tears away. "My name is Mariah…Mariah Tellor."

"Not your Joan I presume?" Phillip asked from behind Detective Bell.

Sherlock shot him a glare and stroked Mariah's hair, trying to stop her sobbing.

Mariah stirred in surprise. "Joan? Joan Watson?"

Sherlock's attention snapped towards her. "You know her?"

Mariah took a step away and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "She's my friend." Her eyes darkened at the memory of being taken away from her. "She's still in that barn…with those men."

"Barn? What barn?" Sherlock pressed for more information.

The man in custody laughed. "She's not in the barn you bitch. She's long gone by now."

Mariah started sobbing again and Sherlock brought her back into his embrace.

"You're going to tell us where she is…and you're going to tell us _now_." Sherlock demanded as he glared at the man in handcuffs.

"Let's just say, we're getting big money off of her…well we would be getting _more_ if Jack hadn't hit her-" The man stopped talking abruptly, knowing he had said too much.

Sherlock clenched his fists and ground his teeth. The man was extremely lucky Sherlock was comforting someone right now or the man would've been on the ground pleading with Sherlock to spare his life.

"I've had enough of this." Captain Gregson pulled out his service weapon and placed it against the man's temple. "Tell us where she is or it gets messy."

The man went white. He had never thought that an NYPD Captain would do anything this drastic. He also could tell by the Captain's tone that he wasn't kidding. "Fine!"

Sherlock waited for the man to talk.

The man cleared his throat and looked around at everyone. "She is being shipped to Maine and we're going to sell her to a brothel house."

Mariah lifted her head from Sherlock's chest and spoke with new-found confidence. "Liar."

"Why would I lie? I'm about to die!"

"Then what was Jack talking about 'the Big Event'?" Mariah narrowed her eyes at the man.

The man gasped. "How did you know about that you little bitch?!"

Sherlock stepped away from her and punched the man in the face. "Enough with the name-calling. Tell us about 'the Big Event'!"

The man hit the ground with a thud. He shook the shock from being punched and looked up at the five above him. The man smirked. "Auction, you mean."

**_THANKS FOR READING!  
PLEASE FAVORITE/FOLLOW/REVIEW!  
Sorry it took so long for this Chapter! I had some writer's block…which really doesn't happen often for me! Thanks to my peers for helping me write this Chapter! Thank's KandiKisses19!_**


	6. Chapter 6

"Auction? What do you mean by _auction_?" Detective Bell dragged the man to his feet.

"What do you _think_ I mean?" He asked sarcastically. "Auction, as in we auction off pretty women for big bucks." He shrugged as if it weren't all that big of a deal.

"_Kidnapped_ pretty women?" Captain Gregson growled.

The man shrugged again. "Yeah, sometimes."

"You disgust me." Sherlock glowered at him.

"You may be disgusted, but I'm the only one who can help you find your precious little Joan." He smirked.

"No…I can help too." Mariah spoke up from Sherlock's side. She was still cowering close to Sherlock as if he were a safe-zone.

Everyone stared at her.

She continued. "I've eavesdropped…a lot. I _knew_ that there was a 'Big Event' planned for all the women in the barn…I just didn't know what the 'Big Event' was…until now."

"Then how would you be able to help us find her?" Sherlock stared at her with a curious look on his face.

"Jack, the man in charge of the girls, was fighting with his boss, who is in charge of the whole event, about where they'd host it. They said the NYPD was checking out the underground casinos in Chinatown, so they wouldn't be able to do it there. Jack was worried that nobody would hear about the event and that they wouldn't make any money. Finally, I heard his boss say something about Staten Island. They have a lot of illegal strip-clubs there and it would be perfect to house fifty women for twenty-four hours before they are sold. 'Underground rats', as I call them, are spreading the word as we speak and they are telling people to bring big cash to get the prettiest bunch of girls yet…which means, they've done this before."

The man in custody was standing with his mouth agape. "How could you possibly have figured all that out?"

"Eavesdropping is a hell of a life-saver." Mariah smiled. She looked at Sherlock and her expression became serious. "But we've got to hurry…they may already be there."

…

Joan's breathing quickened as she continued to sweep across everyone's face in the back of the semi. Still, she could not find Mariah. Her hands became clammy and she could tell that the claustrophobia was getting to her. She couldn't stand; she couldn't even move. She was pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with two other girls and even if she _did_ manage to get up, where would she go? It's not like she could get the door open or even walk to the other end of the back of the semi. She was trapped with nowhere to go.

"Mariah?" She called through the pitch black and the silence. No reply. "Is Mariah Tellor here?" She called again.

"Who's Mariah?" Another female called back.

"Um…Anna Rose, I mean." Joan corrected herself. She had already forgotten that the girls don't go by their _real_ names.

"Anna Rose? I saw her being pushed into another semi…" Another female voice joined the conversation.

"Another semi? There are more of us?" Joan grew angry. How many girls did these people kidnap? How could these people be so heartless that they steal women away from loved ones and happy lives?

"The other semi was empty…" The same female voice answered. "I don't see anyone else missing…"

"You already know everyone here? How long have you been in this nightmare?" Joan asked, worried about what kind of answer it would be. To know everyone in the barn would mean that you would've had to have been there for a _long_ time.

"I was brought in with Anna Rose about a month ago, I think. I remember that we were both in the same van…and we were with three other girls…" She trailed off.

"What happened to them?" Joan asked, nervously. The tone of the girl's voice had faltered when she spoke of the three other girls. It was almost like she was trying not to cry…as if, something_ bad _happened to them.

"They didn't listen…They were fighters." She choked out. Her throat was tightening as she was trying not to cry.

Joan could fill in the blanks. They were fighters and they had been killed because of it. Joan tried to change subjects, "So, what are your names?"

"Kandi Kane." The woman replied.

Before anyone else could speak, Joan cut in. "Tell me your real names."

"Adeline Ferder." She smiled as her real name passed her lips for the first time in a long time.

"Janie Logder, but they call me Maddy Jane." A voice called out.

"Bernadette Williams, but they call me Melody Knote." Another spoke up.

"Kodi Kriss, but they call me Nya Albet." Another girl joined in.

Joan smiled. For a moment, they were happy that they were able to speak up and say who they really were.

Joan's happiness was short-lived though, as a screeching sound came from beneath them. Everyone quieted down and Joan held her breath.

The screeching was from the semi's brakes. They were here.

…

"Get in the car." Detective Bell shoved the man in custody into the police cruiser that they had called for, as Sherlock began calling his 'contacts' around the Staten Island area about any 'auctions' going on soon.

"Do you want to accompany us or do you want to be escorted home?" Captain Gregson asked Mariah. He had given her a police jacket and lent her some old sweat pants from the trunk of his car.

Mariah hugged the jacket tighter around herself as she thought about it. At last, she spoke, "I want to help you find Joan and hurt the bastards that hurt us."

Captain Gregson nodded. "They will be stopped. I promise." He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and led her to the awaiting taxi. He held the door open for her as she slid in and he told the driver to wait a few more minutes for Sherlock.

Captain Gregson walked over to where Sherlock was engrossed in conversation with some unknown associate of his on the phone. Gregson waited until Sherlock had finished his call and motioned towards the taxi. "Ready to go?"

Sherlock nodded. "One of my associates spotted a suspicious semi driving through the area. He talked to his 'street bro's'", Sherlock felt silly just saying 'bro's', "and found out that there is, in fact, an auction going on tomorrow."

"Really? It's that easy to find out about?" Captain Gregson frowned. There are some sick people in this world.

"If you know the right people." Sherlock strode towards the taxi with Captain Gregson in suit.

…

Joan heard the girls start to whimper in fear. "Shhh. It's alright." Joan tried to soothe their worries, but nobody seemed to hear her. It was really hard to soothe other people's worries when you're worried too…

Joan inched back, away from the semi's back doors. She held her breath as she heard distinct footsteps outside the semi's metal walls. They came closer and Joan shut her eyes.

The doors burst open and three men stood there, smiling at them. They began to bark orders at each other and soon, the girls were being ushered inside an emergency exit of a huge black building.

One of the men grabbed Joan's wrist and wrenched her out of the back and onto the concrete. Joan fell and her knees scraped the concrete. The man holding her wrist jerked her onto her feet and Joan cried out in pain. She could feel the throbbing in her knees keeping time with the throbbing in her fingers and the throbbing behind her black eye. The man pulled her forward and handed her off to another, scrawnier man. Joan had the instinct to flee, seeing as this man could be easily taken over, but she remained passive.

_Wait for the right time…It'll come soon_, she thought to herself.

She felt the tickle of blood trickling down her shins and she looked down at her badly scraped knees. It looked as though someone had dragged her across fifty feet of concrete. The skin was broken and fresh, pink skin was lying under the ripped skin, exposing it to the cool night air. Blood was seeping from her wounds and she knew pebbles and debris were infecting the wounds, but she couldn't do anything about it now. Infection was the least of her problems.

Joan was passed off to the last man who was driving everyone inside the building. She walked with her head down as she passed him. As soon as she had stepped one foot into the building, she felt a hard slap on her bottom. She yelped and fell forward, extending her arms to catch herself from hitting the linoleum. She felt the sting from her wounded knees hitting the floor and she clenched her jaw to stop herself from screaming out in unbearable pain. Once she gained her bearings again, she looked behind her to see what had hit her. The man by the door was smirking at her, with pleasure masking his eyes. He pushed past other girls that had stopped and were now staring in horror at what had happened to Joan. He grabbed Joan around the waist and hoisted her up, onto her feet. He pushed his front against Joan's back while Joan tried to fight against him. He breathed on her neck and kissed her on her on her pulse. Joan could feel his hot breath on her ear and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"You remember me, don't you?" The man whispered seductively in her ear.

Joan stifled a sob. She did remember him…or at least, she remembered his voice. She could remember the silky, low tone of his voice from when she was given a bath. Though, she had had her eyes closed, she could recognize his unique voice anywhere.

"I was the one to give you a bath…I made you clean, you dirty little girl…" He bit her ear, teasingly.

"Eric!" A male voice echoed through the empty building.

The man, Eric, let Joan go and turned towards the door. Joan ran forward, almost running into another woman. Joan watched as the other man stepped inside.

The man (the scrawny man) stood there with a deep-set frown. "Hands off the merchandise!"

Eric glowered, but obliged. He returned to his post by the door and the girls started, once again, filing into the building.

Joan was frozen in place. She didn't want to be here anymore, she never had _wanted_ to be here. She wanted to go home…she wanted Sherlock.

A woman, maybe in her fifties, took Joan's arm and led her to where everyone else was walking. The woman leaned over slightly and spoke into Joan's ear, "I'm Kandi Kane…Adeline Ferder is my real name. I was the one you were talking to in the pitch black."

Joan recognized the voice immediately. "How did you know I was the one you were talking to? It was pitch black and there were fifty girls in there…"

She looked Joan in the eyes. "I told you, I've been here a long time…I know _everyone_."

Joan nodded. She couldn't speak anymore, she was too nervous. She could feel the foul taste of bile in the back of her throat and she had to swallow in order to keep herself from vomiting.

Joan took a deep breath, but that was a mistake. A foul stench filled her nostrils and she began coughing uncontrollably. She rushed away from Adeline and to the sides, away from the crowd, to puke. She vomited almost nothing, seeing as she hadn't eaten for awhile.

When the dry heaving had subsided, she looked behind her and to her surprise, Adeline was there waiting for her. "Are you alright, Joan?"

Joan blinked. "You know my name?"

Adeline laughed. "I know everything!"

Joan took another breath, smaller this time and wrinkled her nose. "What _is_ that stench?"

Adeline's smile faded. "Death."

_**THANKS FOR READING! ONLY A FEW MORE CHAPTERS!**_

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	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: I must warn you. This will be a very graphic chapter. This chapter will somewhat reference the Holocaust. I do not want to offend anyone, so I added this warning. It will not be gas chambers or cutting throats, but it will resemble the Holocaust in some way. _**

Joan took a step back from Adeline. "Death? What do you mean by _death_?"

Adeline stepped towards her and brought her into a comforting hug. "Joan, it's going to be fine…as long as you do everything they say."

Joan backed up again. "But what do you mean by _death_?" She searched Adeline's face for any implications about what 'death' might mean.

Adeline frowned. "Joan…" She reached out for her again, but Joan moved out of her reach.

"_Tell_ me." Joan demanded.

Adeline sighed in defeat. "We're going to be judged…If they like us, we become part of the auction. If they hate us…well, I think you can infer what happens then."

Joan's eyes went wide with terror. "No…no, I need to get out of here." She began pushing her way through the crowd and to the exit. Adeline tried to pull her back, but Joan ripped herself away from her grasp. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe." She began to sprint for the seemingly unguarded exit.

A whistle made her freeze.

Joan turned and became aware of the crowd of women being corralled onto a stage in the middle of the floor. She scanned the stage and observed a table with three chairs lined up behind it. Joan deduced that the judges were the ones sitting there. The chairs were occupied by a large man who looked to be about thirty, a serious-looking woman who had clearly seen better days, and a familiar face.

The man who had given her a black eye and completely broke her down.

The man Mariah had identified as Jack.

…

"So, is Phillip going to meet us there or…?" Captain Gregson looked over at Sherlock who was staring straight ahead as if the road were the most interesting thing in the world.

Sherlock replied without looking away from the road. "I dismissed him back at the Radisson. He left with Detective Bell, headed for the precinct. Phillip is going to fill out a formal, written police report on the whole incident with Mariah and everything he heard about Joan. Besides, he isn't needed at this time."

Mariah was snuggled up next to the consultant, her head resting on his shoulder. She had had a long day and the hour and a half taxi ride was the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep.

Sherlock looked down at Mariah and sighed. Even though they had saved a young girl from the sex-slave trade, he couldn't help but wish that Mariah was Joan. He looked back at the road and began to think. Sherlock was so focused on watching the road, the fast pace of the cars passing them and the low hum of the motors drowned out the dreadful thoughts that clouded his mind. Joan could be extremely injured for all he knew…The man they arrested _had_ mentioned that a man by the name of Jack had hit her…When he found this 'Jack', the bastard would be in for a world of pain. Sherlock had been thinking of ways to punish the man who kidnapped his partner…punishments that were painful both physically and mentally.

Sherlock shook his head to clear the revenge-seeking thoughts from his mind. Joan would not want him thinking this way…especially after what had happened with Moran. Sherlock had promised her that he would never go on an anger rampage again, but it was so hard to think that the men wouldn't be put through what Joan went through. They would never experience the emotional toll that Joan went through. Sure, they'd be put in jail, but that would be no comparison to the suffering Joan must be enduring at this very moment.

Captain Gregson shifted in his seat and glanced at the consulting detective. Sherlock seemed to be in a sort of dream-like state. Captain Gregson patted his friend's shoulder and when the consultant met his gaze, Gregson gave an empathetic smile. "She'll be fine, Sherlock. Joan is strong, she'll be fine."

Sherlock nodded and tried to believe it himself. For some reason, he couldn't. Joan could be killed at any moment and Sherlock would be helpless in the matter. They weren't even sure if Joan was in the place they were headed…I mean, they were only following a tip from an associate. It could be a ploy or they could be too late. Whichever possibility was true, Sherlock didn't want to think about it.

"We're here." The taxi driver broke the heavy silence as he slowed the taxi and parked beside the curb. "That'll be one hundred and fifty dollars."

"No NYPD discount?" Sherlock asked, half-joking half-serious.

"Fine, one hundred and _forty-nine_ dollars." The taxi driver spit out the window.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine." He forked over the cash and began to walk towards the ominous building. Mariah followed behind Gregson.

Captain Gregson ran after him and nearly tackled Sherlock to the ground.

Sherlock stopped and turned to face the older man. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Look." Captain Gregson pointed to the roof of the building.

Sherlock followed with his eyes and realized why Gregson had tackled him. "Guards." Sherlock pulled Mariah towards him and out the light from the street lamp.

Twelve armed guards were pacing the roof searching for intruders. They didn't notice the two associates of the NYPD and the young woman accompanying them as they distanced themselves from any sort of light sources and hid behind a phone booth.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear Sherlock, but I think we're going to have to wait and come up with a better plan other than a frontal assault." Captain Gregson lowered his voice to a tone barely louder than a whisper. He didn't want to risk being heard by anyone who might be lurking by the entrance to the building.

Sherlock nodded, but forgot that it was too dark to see, so he replied, "I completely agree, Captain. We should find shelter for the night and return first thing tomorrow morning."

Captain Gregson nodded. "I can use the NYPD's credit card for the room, but I get the bed. You're sleeping on the couch. Mariah, you can have the other bed."

"Why do _I_ get the couch?" Sherlock asked, disappointed.

"Because I have a bad back and Mariah probably hasn't slept in a bed in a _long_ time…plus you're probably going to be up the whole night pacing anyways."

Sherlock smiled. "True, true."

Captain Gregson, Sherlock, and Mariah ducked behind another building and began scouring the area for a nearby motel.

…

Joan forgot about the exit behind her for a moment and when she finally remembered that she was supposed to be escaping, it was too late. She turned and smacked into two men. They grabbed her under her arms and half-dragged her to the stage where the women were stepping up on scales and being placed into two separate groups. The lifted her up the stairs and pushed her towards a scale. After some trouble making her stand still, they finally got her weight. She weighed 121lbs. They led her to the second group, consisting of mostly lean and athletic women. She scanned the faces and noticed someone missing. Adeline.

Joan looked over at the other group and spotted her frantically searching for Joan. Joan waved her arms at Adeline and Adeline got a nervous look on her face. Joan _knew_ that something bad was going to be happening to one of the groups. She didn't know _how_ she knew, but she just knew; she could feel it in her gut.

"Alright! Ladies, ladies!" The lady judge stood and clapped her hands. When she had everyone's attention, she continued, "I need you girls," she motioned towards Adeline's group, "to follow Orlando that way!"

The group started moving off towards a man waiting by a door and soon, every last girl that was part of the second group had disappeared behind the wall. The man named Orlando slammed the door shut and Joan winced. She did not know whether they were safe or if she was going to die.

"Congrats ladies! You are the lucky few who have made it past the first phase." The lady beamed.

Joan felt her panic rise and the first shot rang out. All the girls jumped and began whimpering.

Another shot.

Joan winced as another shot rang out…and then another…and another…and another. Joan felt tears well up in her eyes as realization set in. Adeline was going to be shot and killed. Just another person who was going to be savagely ripped away from her. Joan couldn't help herself, the sobs began and she started to shake.

The lady didn't seem fazed at all by the gunshots. "Who is that sobbing?"

Women parted so that the older lady could see who was crying.

The lady slowly made her way towards Joan and stopped in front of her. "Why are you crying?" She asked with a frown.

Joan didn't answer. She couldn't. Her sobbing was uncontrollable now and she knew she wouldn't be able to stop. All the feelings she had been feeling inside and covering up were now rising to the surface all at once.

"Stop crying." The woman glared at Joan. When Joan didn't stop, the woman struck her. "Stop."

Joan fell to the ground and she sobbed even more. "I….can't….stop…." She choked out between sobs.

The lady knelt down and screamed into her ear. "Get _up_! Stop sobbing!"

Joan followed directions, but she still couldn't stop crying.

The woman circled Joan and when she made her way back around to Joan's front, she grabbed Joan's throat. "Do you want to die?" She growled.

Joan shook her head. "No."

"Then _stop_ crying!" The woman squeezed her throat.

Joan began to choke and she struggled to breathe. Joan did her best and focused on stopping the sobs. Joan's tears dried up and she closed her eyes. After awhile, the sobbing ceased.

The woman released her grasp on Joan's throat and Joan coughed as she got her breathing back.

"Good. Now, back to business." The woman separated herself from the group of girls and stood in front of them. "Line up!"

The girls lined up in a horizontal line and stood at attention.

Jack, the lady, and the other man made their way over to the first woman in line.

They began going through the line and pointing to girls, telling them to go to the opposite side of the stage. When they got to Joan, Jack glared at her and fought for her to be moved to the other side. Thankfully, the woman and the other man overruled his decision and Joan was safe.

After they had made their way through the line, they called Orlando back into the room. Orlando came back with a pistol gripped in his hand. He crossed the stage and the judges helped him direct the girls to the open door.

Joan heard one of the girls scream as they realized they were about to die. The girl threw herself at Orlando's feet and began praying for her life in a foreign language. The girl pleaded and pleaded until the man kicked her. She screamed in pain and tried to crawl away.

Orlando raised his gun and shot one bullet into the back of the young girl's skull.

Joan and the other women screamed in horror as the young woman stopped moving and her head began to gush blood.

Orlando took her by the ankles and threw her over the edge of the stage. He then proceeded to leave the room with the seven girls that had been weeded out.

Joan didn't want to know what it felt like to walk to your death. It was too horrible to think about.

"Thank you, ladies! That'll be all. Look around and congratulate yourselves because you are all going to be sold tomorrow!" The lady grinned like it was the most normal thing to say.

Joan shivered as she heard the last group of girls being shot in the other room. Thank God Mariah wasn't here. Hopefully she was safer somewhere else.

Joan looked around at the other girls and counted them. Only twenty nine of the fifty girls were standing alive. She scanned the tear stained faces of the girls and promised herself something as they were guided towards metal cages that were meant for dogs.

She was going to get out of this…alive.

And she was going to make sure everyone else did too.

**_Thank you for reading. I know this chapter was a hard one to read. I, myself, was on the verge of tears while writing this. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to never know if you were going to die at any second. When I read interviews from women who had been through this in order to write this chapter, I really didn't know how bad it was. I really cannot think about what it must've been like in concentration camps or in the sex-slave trade. I'm thankful that the Holocaust was stopped and I hope that the sex-slave trade will stop too. _**

**_Please Fav/Follow/Review._**

**_Thanks for reading. ONLY TWO OR THREE MORE CHAPTERS!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Nothing really bad in this chapter… so enjoy!_**

"Wake up! Wake up! _Wake up_!" The older lady walked down the line of cages and banged her fists against the metal.

Joan opened her eyes and groaned. She was _exhausted_. They had been locked up, one by one, into the cages according to real last names. Since hers was Watson, she was on the end and was fortunate enough to get the biggest cage out of all of them. After the lady had left last night, Joan tried to snuggle up in the provided blankets, but she didn't get any sleep. Joan tried and tried to get some much needed rest, but her mind was too busy thinking of ways to escape with everyone alive.

"Get up!" The lady screamed again.

Joan got up slowly and wrapped a blanket around her ice-cold body. Even though she had blankets, it was still freezing in the building.

"Today's the big day ladies! Time to get you ready!" The lady motioned for the two men behind her to open a cage at the opposite end of where her cage was located. "These men will bathe you and I will do your makeup! Your destiny awaits in," she checked her wrist-watch, "about ten hours!" She beamed her fake smile and the men removed the first girl. They escorted her across the building and they disappeared behind the doors.

Joan strained her ears listening for any gunshots or screaming from the first girl who was 'getting ready'. When she didn't hear anything, she decided to take advantage of the unsupervised time.

"Girls!" Joan hissed.

All the girls searched for the source of the voice.

"Over here…It's Joan Watson speaking…" Joan spoke in a voice only a little louder than a whisper.

All the girls looked over and when Joan had everyone's attention, she spoke again.

"I'm going to get you all out of here…I promise."

"How?" One of the girls asked doubtfully.

"I don't know yet…Maybe if we put our heads together…" Joan suggested.

"Girls, don't listen to her. She's going to get us _all_ killed." Another woman spoke up.

"No, I would never let that happen." Joan argued.

"Maybe we should listen to her…" A younger woman mumbled.

"No! We _won't_ because we'll be shot if we're caught. You saw what happened to the others…"

Joan gritted her teeth. "Then what do you propose we do? Wait till we're sold? _Then what_?"

The woman shrugged. "If we go along with it, at least we'll all be _alive_."

Joan clenched her fists. This was going to be harder than she thought.

…

An alarm made Captain Gregson jolt from his sleep. "What?" He almost fell out of the bed.

Sherlock was holding his phone close to Gregson's head and staring at him intently.

He put his head down again. "If you don't get your phone away from me, Sherlock…I swear I'll slug you." His pillow muffled his voice.

Sherlock silenced his phone, but remained by Captain Gregson's bedside. "You have thirty minutes to get ready. Ten minutes to shower, ten to eat breakfast, five to brush your teeth, and five minutes to do what you want."

Captain Gregson rolled his eyes. "Five minutes to do what I want…how generous." He spoke sarcastically.

Sherlock stepped aside and let the Captain stretch and slump his way into the bathroom to get ready. He turned to look at Mariah and he smiled. She was sleeping blissfully on the other bed, curled up beneath the covers and her hair covering her face just slightly. He made his way over to her and put her hair behind her ear. She _was_ beautiful…Sherlock sat down on the edge of her bed and lightly touched her shoulder.

"Mariah?" Sherlock cooed.

Mariah stirred beneath the covers and opened her eyes. She smiled at the consulting detective looking back at her. "Morning." She stretched and sat up against the headboard. "Ready to get Joan back?"

Sherlock's smile faltered. He nodded and grabbed her hand. "How're you feeling?"

She smiled. "I'm fine…" Her smile faded and she looked down at the covers. A tear rolled down her cheek and she had to swallow before she spoke again. "I just hope Joan is too."

Sherlock sighed. "Me too."

…

Joan groaned as something rattled her cage door and woke her from her slumber. She lifted her head and she tensed up.

The lady and the two men were smirking at her from the cage doorway. "Get up." The lady took her arm and tried to pull her up.

Joan had to stifle a laugh. This woman was so weak she couldn't even move Joan…and Joan didn't even weigh that much.

One of the men stepped forward and dragged Joan to her feet. He pushed her towards the door Joan had seen the first girl go through and she felt her fear level rising. What if they were going to kill her? What if this was all a ploy and she was going to be shot just like the other girls?

They pushed her through the doorway and tossed her into a large tub.

Joan shivered and took a quick intake of breath. The water was icy cold and stung her skin. She didn't fight them as they bathed her and scrubbed the dirt and grime from her skin. They shampooed and conditioned her hair roughly. Joan had to bite her lip as they pulled her hair and yanked the snarls out.

They told her to stand and Joan did as they commanded. They sat her in a chair and the lady began applying brown eye shadow, red lipstick, cover-up, and pink blush. They applied extra cover-up on Joan's black eye so that it wasn't noticeable. Joan watched them from the mirror and couldn't help but scowl at the results of her makeover. She looked like an exotic Barbie doll.

They blow-dried her hair and curled it. The lady took a pin and pinned Joan's hair behind her head. Joan sighed. She didn't like this…it was way too showy for her taste. She preferred less over more.

They returned her to her cage and warned her to not mess up her makeup or hair.

"Wouldn't dream of it…" She mumbled under her breath as she unpinned her hair and let the curls fall and shape her face. Sherlock had told her that her hair always did look better down.

…

Sherlock checked his watch. Two hours until the auction.

"So, what are we going to do to get Joan out of there?" Captain Gregson ran his hand through his wet hair.

"I've spoken to my father and he agreed to lend me five million dollars." Sherlock watched as Captain Gregson sat down on his bed. They were waiting for Mariah to finish her shower so they could leave. She had gone back to sleep after much pleading to do so. She was lucky Sherlock had a soft spot for female victims and he had given her permission to sleep until it was two hours till the auction.

"Why would you need money? I thought we were going to bust her out?" Captain Gregson asked. "And why so much?"

"I'm going to pay for her. I don't want to endanger her life in any way…This is the easiest way to get her back. And to answer your question as to why I have so much money, these girls go for more than a million apiece. There are many sick _sick_ people in this world, Captain." Sherlock heard the water stop and Mariah stepping out of the shower.

"Why is Mariah coming with?" Captain Gregson changed subjects. "Don't you think that they'll recognize her?"

"They _gave_ her to us…I highly doubt they'll go after her again. Just to be safe though, wait in the car with her and arrest everyone who walks out of the club with a girl. I want to make sure that we save every woman that was in the auction."

Captain Gregson nodded.

They both turned as Mariah emerged from the bathroom.

"Ready to get Joan back?" She had revenge glittering in her eyes.

Sherlock grinned at her confident attitude. "Absolutely."

**_THANKS FOR READING! ONE MORE CHAPTER! J_**

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	9. Chapter 9

Captain Gregson slowed the van and idled at the curb in front of the suspicious building they had observed the night before. Sherlock peered out the passenger side window at the large building that, from the outside, looked abandoned. If it weren't for the suspicious looking men lurking in the shadows and slipping through the side door, Sherlock wouldn't have been the wiser.

Sherlock opened the door to the van and hopped out, onto the sidewalk. He slammed the door shut and gazed at the sinister building before him.

Captain Gregson rolled the passenger side window down and spoke to the distracted consultant. "You have your father's money with you?"

Sherlock snapped out of it as he heard Gregson's voice. He turned and leaned against the open window so that he could see the Captain. "Yes. He wired it into my account this morning." Sherlock looked back at the building and then at his watch. "Show time." He began to walk away, but turned to add a thought. "Catch anyone who walks out of this building and charge them with being accomplices to, lord only _knows _how many kidnapping charges. Since Mariah was a victim to this terrible crime, she'll know the women who were the 'merchandise' in the show. When they see her, they'll trust you. Just make sure _nobody_ gets away." Sherlock cautioned him. "We can't have anyone getting hurt…especially not Joan." Sherlock turned and began to walk towards the door where he had seen others entering the building through.

"Bring Joan back!" Mariah yelled to him from the backseat of the van. "Please…" She whispered to herself.

Sherlock pressed on and slipped through the side door. He was immediately hit with the stench of sweat and blood. He removed his handkerchief from his coat pocket and covered his nose and mouth with it to keep the stench out. He followed the crowd of men to where they were gathering. He looked around and took note of his surroundings. A large stage stood in the middle of the empty building with men crowding around. A set of stairs was set up at the back of the stage and a fenced off area was surrounding the stairs. He strained his neck to try to look for Joan, but he knew that she was most likely hidden somewhere in a different room or beneath the stage. He passed by a large man wearing black sunglasses and a dark grey suit. The man held paddles with different numbers on them. He was handing them out to the event goers and then the people made their way to the stage, paddles in hand.

Sherlock was handed a paddle and ushered towards the group surrounding the large square stage. He looked down at his paddle and smiled. Paddle number twenty-two; the same number Joan had explained was her favorite lucky number. She had elucidated to him that twenty-two was special to her in a way that he would probably never understand. Of course he hadn't really cared about her explanation and had lost interest immediately. He had tuned her out completely and for the first time, he regretted it. There was a chance that he may not be able to save her…and the last thing he would've had said to her was "I require silence, Watson. Don't you have a reunion to get to?"

Sherlock clenched his fist around the paddle in his hand until he couldn't bear the pain of the wooden paddle handle jabbing into his palm. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth.

_Calm down, Sherlock. You'll be reunited with her soon…_

"Please quiet yourselves gentlemen!" An older lady announced to the crowd.

The crowd quieted down and Sherlock gripped the paddle in his hand.

"Gather around! Witness our best batch of girls yet! You gentlemen are in for a treat!" She grinned. "I hope you brought your wallets!"

The crowd of men laughed at her comment. Sherlock stayed silent and patiently waited for Joan to be auctioned. Just the thought made him uneasy. He hoped nobody else would bid on her, against him. He knew there was no way that he would be the only one bidding…Joan was attractive and would definitely capture the attention of many men in the audience.

"Our first beautiful lady is Ms. Jackie Lane!" The woman announced.

A young brunette woman was led onto the stage by a tall man and positioned on the edge of the stage. Many men wolf-whistled and were grinning like crazed, perverted maniacs. The young girl was obviously trying not to cry, knowing that if she gave into her tears, she would be punished harshly for it.

Sherlock's stomach twisted. The fear in the girl's eyes was making him want to save her as well. But he knew he couldn't, he would bid on Joan and Joan only. It was comforting to know that the girl would be safe anyways, seeing as Gregson was waiting for the men and their 'purchases' outside. Gregson would save her; no need to worry.

"Let's start the bidding at; shall we say…twenty grand?" The lady spoke over the whistling. A man raised his paddle. "Twenty grand to number twelve…thirty thousand anyone?" Another paddle rose. "Number eight! Forty?" Paddle rose. "Fifty?" Another paddle. "Sixty? Going once, going twice…sold! Sold to number fifty-two! Congratulations! You may pick your prize up whenever you like!"

Sherlock was elated. The prices weren't as high as he thought they'd be. He could easily beat out anyone in the room if all they had were _thousands_. He had _millions_.

"Our next item is the lovely Nya Albet!" The lady motioned for the tall man to bring her out onstage.

Nya was fighting the man and trying to kick him. He restrained her and held her firmly in front of the crowd. They cheered at her reluctance. Apparently it was arousing to them.

"What a feisty one she is!" The lady spoke through gritted teeth.

Sherlock closed his eyes as he listened to the bids being announced. One-hundred thousand…two-hundred thousand…

"Five million dollars." A loud man announced from the back of the crowd.

Everyone in the crowd turned towards the mysterious man with mouths agape.

"Five million dollars to the man in the back…number one forty-four! Sold! Sold! Sold!" The lady was extremely cheerful at the huge bid.

Sherlock swallowed. If this girl could go for five million…then how much would Joan go for?

"Next up is…Dixie Rain." She sounded annoyed by the name.

Sherlock opened his eyes, curious as to _why_ she sounded annoyed and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

Joan was standing, completely naked, on the edge of the stage with her hair perfectly curled and her makeup overdone. She looked like an Asian Barbie doll…a _gorgeous _Asian Barbie doll…

Sherlock's mouth was open as he let his eyes gaze upon her beauty. Her perfect curves, her beautiful dark skin…he had to shake his head to snap out of it. He felt as though he was invading her privacy…which was ironic because he hadn't cared about evading her privacy before.

"One-hundred thousand!" A man called as he raised his paddle.

"Two-hundred thousand!"

"Half a million!"

Sherlock was dizzied by the scattered outbursts of higher and higher bids. He had almost forgot why he was even there.

"Eight-hundred thousand!" He called, disguising his voice as being American. He raised his paddle and the lady pointed to him.

"We have eight-hundred thousand from number twenty-two!"

Joan had heard that voice before…it was so familiar. Her gaze followed to where the lady was pointing and her heart fluttered with joy. Sherlock! He had found her! She smiled at him and her hope was restored.

"One-million!"

"Two-million!"

"Four-million!"

Sherlock's heart sank. The bid was nearing his max limit. He only had a million more before his money was gone.

Sherlock knew he had to think of something fast. "Four and a half million!" He called.

Joan's gaze met his and they exchanged a wary glance.

"Four and a half million from the handsome number twenty-two!" She paused to wait for more bids. "Going once? Going twice?"

"Five million dollars." A voice spoke from the back.

Sherlock turned to look and he froze. The man who had been bidding against Sherlock the whole time was standing on the outskirts from the crowd, smirking right at Sherlock.

"Six million! I bid to partner with number twenty-two!" A familiar voice spoke from a space behind Sherlock.

Sherlock spun around and confusion swept over him. "M.?" He gasped.

Sebastian Moran moved beside Sherlock and tried a smile. "We may be enemies, but I owe you a solid. You could've killed me…but you didn't. And for that I owe you."

Sherlock nodded and waited for her to start the 'going once, going twice' charade again.

"Seven million!" The other man yelled louder.

"Bid eight million…lemme take care of this joker." Sebastian Moran moved away from Sherlock to 'take care' of the opponent.

"Eight million!" Sherlock did as Moran had told him to. Hopefully, Moran wasn't lying when he said he'd help.

"Ni-" The bid was cut off.

"Was that a bid?" The lady called to the back of the crowd. When she didn't hear anything, she began to finalize the purchase. "Eight million going once, going twice…"

Pause.

Sherlock closed his eyes and prayed. The pause seemed to last forever.

"Sold! Sold to number twenty-two and his bidding partner!" The lady pointed to Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled and almost burst with relief and excitement. He looked back and saw Moran making his way over.

"What did you do?" He asked as Moran joined him by his side.

"You don't want to know." Moran smirked and began to make his way to the fenced off area. "So are you going to get your girl or what?"

Sherlock grinned and they made their way over to the fenced off area.

"Paddle please." The man guarding the entrance held out his hand for the paddle.

Sherlock handed him the paddle and the man confirmed with another man that Sherlock and Moran had bought one of the girls.

"Right this way please." He motioned for them to follow him as another man took his post.

They followed him through a set of double doors and into a room filled with cages. They made their way to the last cage and paused.

"Ms. Dixie Rain." The man smiled and unlocked the cage door.

Sherlock walked in and looked around for her.

She wasn't there.

"Where is she?" He asked anxiously.

"You didn't think you'd get her before you paid, did you?" The man at the door smiled. He outstretched his hand for Sherlock's money.

Moran was the one to hand over the card. He winked at Sherlock and when the man left to retrieve Joan, he spoke. "Think of it as a gift. You get Joan back and we never see each other again."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you, Sebastian." He scowled at himself. He didn't think that in a million years that he'd ever be saying that to a criminal.

Sebastian frowned. "Don't mention it. _Please_, don't mention it."

The man returned with Joan in his grasp. "She's a feisty one…I'll definitely miss her." He gazed at her hungrily.

"Yeah, well…now she's mine." Sherlock grabbed Joan's arm and began to drag her away. "Pretend to be scared until we get out of here." He murmured under his breath.

"Holmes! Watch out!" Moran's voice rang out behind him.

It was too late. Sherlock felt the bullet enter his shoulder and rip through the muscle. He screamed in surprise mixed with pain. He pushed Joan forward and yelled for her to run.

Joan was frozen in fear as she watched Sherlock drop to the ground and clutch his shoulder, groaning and moaning in pain. Her doctor instincts lit up and she knelt down beside him.

"Go! Run away, Joan!" He screamed at her.

"I won't leave you." She stated firmly.

The man approached the two on the ground and smiled menacingly down at them. "You didn't think I was that stupid, did you _Holmes_?" He glowered. He pointed his gun at them and was about to pull the trigger, but Moran tackled him to the ground and began to wrestle him for the gun.

Joan stood and began to search for something to cover Sherlock's shoulder with to stop the bleeding. She stopped when she heard Moran cry out and hit the ground. She hid behind one of the cages and watched between the chain-link as the man approached Sherlock again.

"Ha. You really thought you were clever coming here and rescuing your little girlfriend." He scowled. "You can't fool me Holmes. You may be able to screw with everyone else's minds and fool them, but not me. I'm clever too." He raised his gun and took it off safety. "Now, you're going to die, Sherlock. Think of it as _my _gift to you. You get to die and go to heaven…and you'll be reunited with Irene."

Sherlock's jaw locked. He swung up at him, but he missed due to his pain and the growing blurriness in his vision as a result to his injuries. "How do you know about Irene? Who _are_ you?"

The man laughed an evil laugh. "Call me…Moriarty." He began to pull the trigger.

Joan grasped the nearest metal chair from the wall and sprinted towards Sherlock's assailant. She struck him from behind and he slumped over. The man who had claimed to be Moriarty fell and the gun skidded across the floor.

Sherlock had his eyes closed, awaiting the shot that would end his life.

Joan leaned down and put her hand on his cheek. "Sherlock…"

He opened his eyes and he opened his mouth to speak, but a cry of pain came out instead.

Joan put his good arm over her shoulders and grabbed him from around the waist. She helped him up and made their way to the door.

"Moran…" Sherlock mumbled and he struggled against her to turn around.

Joan looked back and to her surprise, Moran had disappeared. "He's gone, Sherlock. We need to get you to the hospital."

Sherlock nodded and let her lead him to the sidewalk. He told her where the van was parked and they were greeted by some medics.

Captain Gregson ran over to them and helped the medics take Sherlock away.

"I need to go with…" She called after Gregson.

Captain Gregson turned and held up a finger that told her to wait.

She watched as he was loaded into the awaiting ambulance. Sherlock looked back at her and mumbled something to the EMT. The EMT nodded and gave something to Gregson as the exchanged words.

Captain Gregson returned with a large coat and sweat pants in his hands (plus undergarments). He handed them to her and Joan realized that she was still naked. She received the clothes gratefully and began to dress.

Once she was decent, Gregson led her to the ambulance and helped her into the back.

They shut the doors and she took a seat beside the stretcher that held Sherlock.

Sherlock had his eyes closed and the EMT's had covered his injured shoulder.

"Joan…" He groaned. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to open them.

She took his hand on his good arm and began gliding her thumb over the top of his hand. "I'm here, Sherlock. I'm not leaving you…" She felt a tear run down her cheek and she wiped it away with her other hand. "I'll never _ever_ leave you."

She could've sworn a smile worked its way onto Sherlock's lips.

…

Sherlock heard a steady beeping sound and felt a painful pressure in his shoulder. He blinked until his eyes were used to the bright white light of the hospital. He was lying in a hospital bed and his arm was in a sling. His gaze traveled around the room and he slowly grew aware of someone snuggled up beside him. He looked down and felt his heart skip a beat. Joan was snuggled tight against his body and she was fast asleep. He lifted his good hand and began to stroke her hair.

She stirred and blinked up at him. "You're awake." She smiled. She sat up, but remained close to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better…now that you're safe." He smiled. "Did you hear anything? Are all the other girls safe?" He asked anxiously.

"Yes. Thanks to you and Gregson…and Mariah." She smiled. "Thank you for saving Mariah."

Sherlock nodded. "I'm just glad you're safe…" He noticed the darker skin around her eye. He brushed her hair away from the spot so he could examine it more closely. "They hit you…"

Joan's mind flashed back to the memory. Tears formed in her eyes. "They did so much more than that, Sherlock."

Sherlock wiped her tears and eased her down onto his chest. He let her sob as he stroked her hair and quieted her sobs. "Its okay, Joan. It's going to be hard, but we'll get through this…together."

Joan hugged him tighter. "You're the best partner ever."

Sherlock grinned. "I know."

Joan playfully hit his chest. She thought carefully about what she was going to say next. She knew if she didn't say it quick, that she would lose her nerve.

"Thank you for saving me, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and kissed the top of her head. "I'm always going to save you."

**_THANKS FOR READING! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED MY STORY! :) _**

**_I WOULD LIKE TO THANK: Kailie, Devil777, Cozibizzle, red2013, bluebook1496, marshmallowdeviant, mmkbrook, HaleyHolmes88, Jayde, JFJD, queer-serenity, moonserenity089, TheOtherHalfBloodPrince, AnimeGirl197, TawnyShyrell, Wolf9lucky, LexiieHunteR, bk-1205, Momo52, James Birdsong, mark, mk162rl18619, teentitan42, Elementary Fan, Dina C, Ghostie69, muffin22, qenie, writerfan2013, and all the unnamed guests that reviewed and supported my story. Thank you again and be on the lookout for my next series!_**

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